Harry Potter and the Unseen University
by Von
Summary: Harry's 'Next Great Adventure' starts here.


A choice had to be made and Harry chose to board the train.

Unfortunately, being Harry Bloody Potter, the train was promptly derailed.

And Harry woke up, still very much alive, a very long way away from his loved ones – living or dead.

**Harry Potter and the Unseen University**

"So, what's your name then?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply when the wind shifted and suddenly the air stank badly enough to make his eyes water and his nose burn.

"Oh, Merlin!" he choked, waving one hand in front of his face and trying desperately to remember some kind of air purification charm.

_Bubble head? No no, that just traps air within a bubble..._

"Merlin, eh? Hmm. Odd kind of name if you ask me." Arch-chancellor Mustrum Ridcully mused without bothering to lower his voice.

Giving up and barely paying attention, Harry flicked his wrist and _pushed_ with his magic - intent was suddenly not a problem at all.

The half-dozen wizards raised a hand to hold their hats down almost automatically as a stiff breeze belted past them, forcing back the pungent odour of the river Ankh.

"Hmmm." Ridcully mused again, eyes sharp and thoughtful.

"You're not an eighth son of a eighth son of a wizard, are you?" Dean cut in peevishly. "Because I'll be damned if all that sorcerer nonsense is starting up again."

Harry glanced over. Something about the Dean was a little difficult to ignore.

"What?" He asked, sighing in relief as his nose failed to shrivel up and fall off. "Oh. Oh, well, no. Sorry. Only child of an only child, if that's any help."

The assorted wizards went into a huddle. Snatches of words could be overheard as they argued about whether anybody had heard of an only child of an only child ever being a sorcerer or even a wizard, for that matter, whether the Bursar counted as an opinion and exactly how long it was till lunch time. The discussion about lunch quickly became heated.

Ridcully ignored them all and strode over to clap the boy heartily on the back.

"Well, you may not look like a wizard, but I suppose it takes all types." He peered over at Stibbons, who was still mumbling about convergences and impossibilities and his damned thinking machine.  
"Some, of course, we could do without." he added. "Now, where's your hat?"

At this, Harry just blinked. He thought about the hat he'd worn as a first year, once, before deciding it looked too much like a dunce's cap for his tastes and promptly buried it at the bottom of Dean's trunk.

"I.. don't have one?" He offered. Ridcully stared at him and snatched his hand back.

"You're a student?" He exclaimed, looking affronted and slightly nauseous. Harry considered this. He never did finish Hogwarts, after all.

"Yes." he answered, finally sure of something.

Ridcully sighed and shook his head, muttering something like '_another_ bloody one'.

"Well, you can move into the dorms, I suppose." He said grudgingly, lighting up his pipe with a snap of his fingers. "Payment is 20 dollars per term. Find another student and they can tell you the rest." With that, the most senior member of the university strode off.

It didn't matter where the boy had come from or what sort of magic he could command.

As far as Mustrum Ridcully was concerned, he was just another damn student underfoot.

_Ankh-Morpork_

"Nah, nah.. it's easy. See, classes are kind of.. you know.. ethereal. Sooo, as long as you pass your exams, you're good!"

Harry nodded as he followed the student wizard with masses of hair jutting in every direction, only a nose poking out from behind it. _If Hermione was here_ he thought, a little sadly, _she'd have a stroke on the spot. Exams without classes? This place is crazy._

"Right, I think this one has a free spot." the hairy student stopped in front of a thick wooden door and hammered on it. When there was no response he opened the door and peeked in.. though how he could actually _see_ anything was anyone's guess.

"Nice, he's gone." hairy-student said cheerfully. "Good guy, your new roomie, but a bit.. y'know. Bursar."

Harry just kept nodding like some of it made sense. He stepped in and glanced around. The room was about the size of the dormitory he'd shared back in Hogwarts. Directly opposite the door was a stone semi-circle recess set deep in the wall. A cauldron, what looked like an oven and a mass of alchemical devices were stored on and in every available space. To the left and right were identical, sturdy beds with identical, sturdy wardrobes beside them.

"You're meant to share the lab, but I don't think that'll happen. Best not to try, honestly." The hairy-student advised. "Other than that.. meals are in the great hall. You can sign up for classes in that room I showed you on the way here.."

"Ethereal classes." Harry checked. The student nodded. "Right, thanks."

"Most students get a job on campus to help pay for things. I work over at the High Energy Magic Building – crazy stuff, man! We're full right now, but the greenhouses are always lookin' so you could give that a shot. I think the Library might be too, but.. well, frankly both jobs have their dangers, right?"

He stuck out his hand. Harry took it and shook it on automatic. Dangers? Greenhouses, sure, he'd tended to venomous tentacula before... but libraries?

"Good luck, man!" hairy-student offered cheerfully. "If you're still alive next month, I'll throw you the best welcoming party ever! Till then, don't bother introducing yourself – nobody's gonna waste time remembering your name. Cheers!"

With that, the hairy, friendly student was gone.

Harry stood silently and alone in his new dorm room. He wasn't sure whether to be more perplexed by the apparent danger of his new school or the fact that it was treated as a perfectly normal occurrence. He supposed it was at least more refreshing than Hogwarts, which was pretty dangerous _without_ having the courtesy of admitting it.

"...And what the hell is a Bursar?"

_Ankh-Morpork_

The Unseen University was... _fun_.

Harry had woken with a smile on his face every day for the past week. True to hairy-student's word, his roommate was an amiable enough fellow, as long as Harry didn't step too close to his experiments.

The university seemed to be one big party, from unwashed hung-over students to massive, well-fed, batshit-insane faculty.

Really, it was like every wild college stereotype wrapped up in magic and steeped in weirdness.

It was considered perfectly normal to have to bludgeon a multi-tentacled monster to death on your way to the loo each morning. Classrooms appeared and vanished much like Hogwarts', with some only being accessible every other Tuesday, and only if you were wearing something orange.

It was downright _comforting_.

In an impulse of responsibility, he had made a note of all the classes he'd signed up for and wandered off to find the library to see what he needed to know by the end of the year.

The books talked to each other, strange creatures roamed the shelves and the further he walked, the more chains appeared to keep the books from walking as well.

It hadn't even occurred to him that he might get lost and he was absolutely enthralled by a section on Parseltounge books (specifically, a book full of rather dirty limericks) when four people clad in rags, tied together with string and skinny as their beards were long stumbled across him.

They'd spent a while weeping on his shoulders and Harry had led them back out more in an attempt to get away from them than to actually help them.

Nevertheless, the open dome of the main library soon appeared, with the wonderfully exotic orangutan hanging from a railing by his feet as he shelved some commonly-used books. The ragged men following him broke into a massive cheer and ran for the door, clothes-lining students as the strings between them drew taut.

The librarian appeared at his shoulder, peered at the book in his hand and then looked up at him with a curious "Oook?"

Harry blushed. The book of dirty limericks really was _very_ dirty. There must be something about wizards who could speak to snakes.. all of the books in that section had to do with the baser urges in one way or another.

"Er.. just looking. Sorry." he said weakly. The orangutan gave him a disapproving look and pointed firmly at the 'return to shelves' box. Harry meekly placed the book in there to be returned later and followed the animal to its desk.

"Er.. I'm new here and was wondering if you could help me find a book?" He asked politely. It never occurred to him that he was speaking to an actual animal – obviously this was an animagus.

The Librarian held up a hand and ooked excitedly, before running off into the stacks, his arms waving over his head.

Harry waited patiently, eyes skimming the titles of the books on the Librarian's desk.

'101 more things to slather gravy on.' 'Awfully evil curses and other party tricks' 'Inter-dimensional STDs and how to treat them.' 'Oxford English Dictionary.'

The Librarian came back with two books, both of which he placed carefully in Harry's hands. They were absolutely massive, easily larger than Hogwarts: A History.

One looked tattered and badly-repaired and was titled 'A slacker's guide to UU: Exams and how to pass them. Toads you should not lick. How to brew beer in four easy steps and sixteen hard ones.'

The other looked newer and had gold print on the front that was already rubbing off. It had large letters at the top, which slowly became smaller and smaller as though someone had started writing the title then realised they were running out of space.

'**ANKH-MORPORK! **Ae complet history of the grate and wondersul city as told bie the guilds – now with vouchers!'

Upon opening the book, he discovered that the vouchers were already gone with the exception of a lone 'FREE pre-use'd cabbages (1 per cusfomer)'.

Harry took the voucher. "Cool." He said, unknowingly uttering the ancient and solemn salutation of all university students in all the multiverses. "Free stuff!"

_Ankh-Morpork_

Having obtained a book to help him not be thrown out of the university and a book on stuff he should probably know _before_ he went exploring, Harry went looking for a job.

"You want a _what_?"

"A part time job." Harry repeated nervously. The older man was glaring at him from the other side of a desk piled high with paperwork, plates of food and.. were those potatoes with _legs_?

"You want to work.. but only _some_ of the time?" The man asked derisively.

Harry sighed inwardly. This was the fourth place he'd applied for a job. Apparently Ankh-Morpork had never heard of part time or casual employment, beyond the stuff found on campus.

It would have been nice for someone to _tell_ him that, _before_ he walked all over this confusing maze of a city.

"I'm studying at the university." He replied as patiently as he could. "But I need a way to support myself. I can't dedicate the time for a full job, so I'm just asking to see if you have any jobs I could do for less hours – and less wages – than normal."

The glare gained an edge of suspicion.

"You a wizard?" Dark eyes flicked up and down, as though checking him for weapons. Which, seeing as wizards in this place apparently used staffs, seemed like a tricky thing to conceal.

Harry shrugged and nodded. If magic was a secret in this world, it was a pretty poorly-kept one.

"I've got no use for a wizard." The man said abruptly. Harry sighed, shoulders slumping slightly.  
He wasn't exactly surprised. Commander something-or-other had been giving 'fuck off' vibes since the moment he'd stepped into the office.

"I understand." Was all he said in reply, standing and offering a polite smile more out of reflex than anything else. "Thank you for your time."

He turned and left, brushing past a tall woman whose shoulder he only barely came up to.

No wonder nobody wanted to hire him, he thought glumly as he made his way down the stairs. Magic seemed to be looked upon with a kind of tolerant disdain and his scrawny body had never really developed like the rest of his dorm mates. A hard childhood and a stressful adolescence fighting Dark Lords had just put a little too much strain on it.

He'd just reached the noisy, busy ground floor when a soft hand wrapped around his elbow. Harry tensed on reflex at the unexpected touch and turned to stare into slightly narrowed golden eyes.

"Mister Vimes wants another word." The woman said shortly, tugging his arm briefly. She dropped the limb as soon as Harry nodded and stared after him as he climbed the stairs again.

He wondered if he was supposed to feel unnerved. It wasn't like she was the first werewolf he'd met. Then again, as a police officer, being stared at _was_ pretty unnerving.

He entered the office with a brief knock on the door frame. Vimes looked up, giving him yet another quick once-over, then pointed at the chair.

Harry sat.

"If you're at that bloody university, then I expect you're fairly literate?" Vimes speculated aloud, moving a pile of paper to the floor as he looked for one in particular.

Harry blinked.

"I can read and write, yes." He agreed. The Commander shot him a quick look, as though expecting a snide remark of some kind, but Harry just watched him quietly.

"Right." Vimes muttered, finding what he was looking for and thrusting it at him. Harry took the grubby sheet of paper and glanced down at it.

"Read that aloud." Vimes grunted.

Harry raised an eyebrow and obeyed.

"At seven o'clock yesterday, the eleventh of... Grune, Cpl Nobby and I proceeded to Mrs Underbel's house on gleam steet, whereupon she proceeded to report her finest set of knickers stolen from her washing with no guild receipt left in its place at which point Cpl. Nobby proceeded to say -"

Vimes interrupted him with a scowl. "That's enough. Turn it over and write on the back" He handed over a quill and a small half-dried inkwell. "Write exactly what I say."

Harry wordlessly put the inkwell on the corner of the chair by his leg and took a book from the desk to rest the paper on. He looked up expectantly.

Vimes rattled off a list of various objectives and times, using a few words Harry frankly didn't know. Fresh from Hogwarts, however, he was luckily very experienced at rapidly taking legible notes from professors who didn't pause to clarify spelling or let you catch up.

A few moments later he was blowing on the ink to dry it and handing it back.

Vimes took it. Glared at it. Glared at him.

"You can't spell worth a damn." He grumbled.

Harry bristled, finally insulted.

"If there are any words misspelled, it's only because I have never heard of them before today." He shot back firmly. "Show me how to spell them correctly and I will from here on out."

The look Vimes gave him wasn't a glare this time. It was too blank for that.

"So, you want me to pay you to educate you then?" He asked quietly. Harry glared.

"Judging from your own words, Commander, literacy is not a common commodity here." he returned, clamping down on his anger so that his words carried only a faint bite. "And if the example of writing you first showed me is the average level your officers turn in, then you can hardly do worse. At least I know what a comma is and when to use it. Not to mention the fact that _in_ that report, the word 'proceeded' alone is spelled three different ways."

There was a short silence. Harry braced himself to be thrown out, or possibly arrested.

"So. You _do_ have a bit of a spine after all." Vimes' gaze turned assessing. "And so far, no threats to turn me into a frog?"

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched.

"Using magic on the non-magically-gifted without due provocation is against the law." He replied stiffly. "Where I come from." He added belatedly, having no clue what the hell the law was in this crazy place.

Vimes just snorted.

"Good to know. Well, it's been brought to my attention that I may have a job for you after all." His eyes flickered behind Harry who glanced behind him to see that the woman with blonde hair had followed him up at some point. Her face was utterly blank as well.

Harry turned back.

Vimes gestured at his desk.

"As you can see, we tend to get a lot of paperwork. I'm thinking you could come in once a day, sort through all the crap, make sure I see the important stuff in time to sign it and delegate the rest of it to whoever needs it."

Harry glanced down at the desk.

"It's that, or go ask at the newspapers for a job – I'm sure they'd enjoy your _literacy_." The last few words were acid on toast.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "I hate newspapers." He growled. "When can I start?"

**Fin.**

This was originally posted as part of a collection of HP crossover WIP fics. However, it's been years and this just isn't developing any further. Please consider this as a 'the future starts now' sort of one-shot ending of the HP books. Should any further scenes develop, I'll post them in the junk drawer until/unless they develop into a proper chapter.

My sincere apologies to anyone who was hoping for more. I was hoping too.


End file.
